stood in gold characters: "Through
suffering shall we be purified." He also sent a short little note,
expressing commiseration and apologizing for not being able to come, as
he was occupied with an undeferrable business meeting.

Then came the singers who had been invited by Tamara--fifteen men from
the very best choir in the city.

The precentor, in a gray overcoat and a gray hat, all gray, somehow, as
though covered with dust, but with long, straight moustaches, like a
military person's, recognized Verka; opened his eyes wide in
astonishment, smiled slightly and winked at her. Two or three times a
month, and sometimes even oftener, he visited Yamskaya Street with
ecclesiastical academicians of his acquaintance, just the same
precentors as he, and some psalmists; and having usually made a full
review of all the establishments, always wound up with the house of
Anna Markovna, where he invariably chose Verka.

He was a merry and sprightly man; danced in a lively manner, in a
frenzy; and executed such figures during the dances that all those
present just melted from laughter.

Following the singers came the two-horsed catafalque, that Tamara had
hired; black, with white plumes, and seven torch-bearers along with it.
They also brought a white, glazed brocade coffin; and a pedestal for
it, stretched over with black calico. Without hurrying, with habitually
deft movements, they put away the deceased into the coffin; covered her
face with gauze; curtained off the corpse with cloth of gold, and lit
the candles--one at the head and two at the feet.

Now, in the yellow, trembling light of the candles, the face of Jennka
became more clearly visible. The lividness had almost gone off it,
remaining only here and there on the temples, on the nose, and between
the eyes, in party-coloured, uneven, serpentine spots. Between the
parted dark lips slightly glimmered the whiteness of the teeth, and the
tip of the bitten tongue was still visible. Out of the open collar of
the neck, which had taken on the colour of old parchment, showed two
stripes: one dark--the mark of the rope; another red--the sign of the
scratch, inflicted by Simeon during the encounter--just like two
fearful necklaces. Tamara approached and with a safety pin pinned
together the lace on the collar, at the very chin.

The clergy came: a little gray priest in gold spectacles, in a
skull-cap; a lanky, tall, thin-haired deacon with a sickly, strangely
dark and yello